


Devil in Disguise

by saltycvs



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alley Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Credence loves percival graves, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I can't believe that's a thing wow, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Explicit Sex, Percival Graves is Dead, Public Blow Jobs, and grindelwald is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltycvs/pseuds/saltycvs
Summary: "When Grindelwald pulls away, he looks intently at Credence. The boy hadn’t said anything yet, not to thank Grindelwald for his kindness, nor to stumble some ill-formed apology.  His eyes are glazed over, wide, pupils blown. It is only then that Grindelwald feels the tell-tale hardness pressing against his hip, where Credence is hunched over at the waist.It isn’t really a surprise. Graves is a very desirable man (and Grindelwald has explored his body, without shame), rich, and though a lot older, secure. He hadn’t doubted that Credence didn’t only see a father-figure in the other man. Still, to grow hard from so little stimulation; Gellert curls his lip. It’s pathetic."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's this. Please heed the warnings, as this isn't original!graves being nice to Credence. This is, for the lack of better wording, Grindelwald being the huge dick that he is. 
> 
> this is largely unbeta-d so all mistakes are my own, and as I rushed to get this out, there might be quite a few. i apologise for that.

Gellert is nothing if not an idealistic man. He likes his clothes new, his coffee black, his play-things pretty. Perhaps that’s what he had seen in Graves, too. The same approach to life; clean pressed shirt, nice coat, influential position. It was as if Percival Graves, Director of the Department of Magic Security for MACUSA , had been made for Gellert Grindelwald, placed into his path, exactly what he needed.  Gellert had even overly merciful, paying tribute to such a wonderful specimen of man, keeping Graves’ death short and sweet and entirely unsatisfactory for himself.

It isn’t a secret that Grindelwald likes to play. From his minimal time playing director, he had taken immense pleasure in ordering around his employees, having coffee brought to him and rejecting it if it wasn’t good enough. He left paper work unattended. After all, He wouldn’t be here long, and why concern himself with such trivial things when he had a rebellion to plan?

Though idealistic, Grindelwald isn’t patient. He likes things to move fast, gets frustrated quickly, grows bored of playing the games. He had never planned to stay in America for long (has quite the disdain to it, if he can say. It’s the people, they’re always so uncouth), find the obscurial and get out, back into Europe, where his plans were working along rather marvellously. Each hour longer in Percival Grave’s office set his nerves more on edge, wearing the man’s face more exasperating.

Then there’s the boy, Credence. Grindelwald is growing impatient with him, impatient with acting out the role of the kind, gentle saviour that Percival Graves must’ve been, though Grindelwald doubts the other man hadn’t had alternate intentions, not with how innocent Credence’s eyes were, how plump his bottom lip. No, a lesser man than Grindelwald would’ve used him for things other than searching for the obscurial, and Percival Graves had been a lesser man.

 

 

A loud _crack_ sounds in the alleyway, and Mr Graves appears, great coat billowing. It is both a dramatic and simple entrance. Whereas Credence stands transfixed, in awe of Grindelwald’s (or Graves’ considering that’s who he sees in front of him) powers, any other wizard wouldn’t of batted an eye. There’s a small part of Grindelwald that likes it, likes being looked at as if he’s a god. The other, larger part is just annoyed at the young man’s wide-eyed, worshipping stare.

“The child, Credence.” Grindelwald doesn’t bother with pleasantries any more, simply strides forwards towards Credence, feels a bite of satisfaction when he flinches away. That won’t do, though; Grindelwald can’t get ahead of himself. Instead of pressing the boy further, he softens his irritated expression (oh, Graves really was a handsome man when he wasn’t frowning), lets his mouth slip from the tight line it’s formed

Credence whimpers, and Grindelwald can see him clutching his hands to himself. So the mother had him beaten again. Grindelwald realises that with a note of indifference, as if it’s just a simple fact. Credence’s pain is next to nothing to him. He doesn’t care, but he knows he needs to pretend to, if he wishes to rely on the squib.

“I’m sorry, Mr Graves, I haven’t... I don’t...”  Credence stumbles over his words, whole body shaking like a branch under a strong gust of wind. Grindelwald wonders what it would be like if Credence snapped off.

“Shh, it’s alright, my boy.”  It takes Grindewald two steps to reach Credence and wrap his arms around the small frame, feel Credence collapse into the sturdy frame that is Percival Graves. It isn’t alright, though, it makes Grindelwald grind his teeth as he feels the dark head tuck itself underneath his chin.

Credence clutches to his clothes, long fingers wrinkling the material of Graves’ expensive coat. Grindelwald blows a sigh of annoyance out of his nose.

He wonders if Graves had liked this, if it had gotten him off. Grindelwald knows that Graves had been a secluded man. Though his decision to take the Director’s place had been rushed, he had done his research. Graves, living by himself in a big apartment, had little to no friends outside his acquaintances at work, and his decision to see Credence couldn’t of been out of the simple kindness of his heart. The boy is pretty, after all, if a bit on the thinner side; gangly, seeming to still be growing into his limbs. He has a plush mouth, too, perfect for sucking cock, Grindelwald notices as those same exact lips press into the corner of his neck. Credence probably doesn’t even notice it, with how innocent he burrows his face into the crook of Grindelwald’s (or is it Percival’s?) shoulder.

“I will try better, I _swear_ it, sir, I really do.” Credence breathes, pressing all the more closer.

Grindelwald takes Credence’s hand, the one that is most marred by the red lines, and cradles it in the palm of his own. Maybe this will encourage the boy to double his efforts.

He ignores Credence’s flinch at the touch, concentrating his magic and running his hand over the wounds. The magic bubbles up in him; sizzles, and the bloody lines seal themselves up, leaving behind faint, silvery scars. It’s fairly quick, nothing too taxing on Grindelwald’s talent (he wouldn’t ever actually _inconvenience_ himself for someone like Credence, the child be damned), but even still credence shudders on every pass of Gellert’s hand over his, breathy sighs spilling past bitten lips.

When Grindelwald pulls away, he looks intently at Credence. The boy hadn’t said anything yet, not to thank Grindelwald for his kindness, nor to stumble some ill-formed apology.  His eyes are glazed over, wide, pupils blown. It is only then that Grindelwald feels the tell-tale hardness pressing against his hip, where Credence is hunched over at the waist.

It isn’t really a surprise. Graves is a very desirable man (and Grindelwald has explored his body, without shame), rich, and though a lot older, secure. He hadn’t doubted that Credence didn’t only see a father-figure in the other man. Still, to grow hard from so little stimulation; Gellert curls his lip. It’s pathetic.

Drawing away, Gellert suppresses a smirk, and instead tilts his brows up in something akin to forced concerned. It isn’t very good acting, but Credence seems to lap it up like a cat would spilled milk, body giving another involuntary shiver. “Are you quite alright? You seem a tad flushed.”

The question startles Credence, a whine bubbling up high in his throat, escaping before he even notices and has a chance to push it down. Grindelwald watches as colour leaves Credence’s face, making him even paler, before it returns full-fold, reddening his cheeks in a blush that would’ve appeared flattering, if only he hadn’t been so sullen by nature.

“I’m sorry, Mr Graves, sir, I need to—I need to go!” Credence stutters, but Grindelwald catches his arm before he may slip past him and out of the alley-way.

“Don’t. There is nothing wrong with this.” Grindelwald utters, his eyes sweeping Credence’s frame. Perhaps... perhaps, if this is what Credence wants, if this is what gets him to be more pliable, easier to manipulate, more eager to find the child that Grindelwald sorely needs, it won’t be too much of a _chore_ to appease him.

“In fact,” Grindelwald says, Graves' voice pitching low in his throat, “Why don’t you get down on your knees for me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so very appreciated. The next (and last) chapter should be up soon!  
> follow me on tumblr at www.saltycvs.tumblr.com


End file.
